


My Heart on Your Sleeve

by NHarmonic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: And he doesn't want people to know, But clueless about it, John needs a heart, JohnLock all the way, Love at First Sight, M/M, Sherlock has a heart, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, until he finds his man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 18:37:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9284900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NHarmonic/pseuds/NHarmonic
Summary: Summary: You know the phrase; he wears his heart on his sleeve? Well, in this world its literal, except, it's not your sleeve your heart is on.





	1. Fillers, Emptys, Soulless

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This is based on a picture (that I DO NOT own) I saw either on google or Pinterest and was inspired. One of my favorite things to do is to write stories based on fanart or headcanons I see so this is it. It will be two chapters, with a third chapter to show ya’ll the picture. I DO NOT OWN THE PICTURE OR SHERLOCK!

No one knows when it began, and yet everyone knows when it started. It was in an instant, or perhaps it was gradual and happened over time. History says it happened in an instant. The parent generation was normal, and then suddenly, all children were born different. One moment humans were whole; the next they were half.

The bible; all of them. Humans were normal. All had their own heart. Their own emotions and free will. There was no mention in greek or roman mythology. No hints at it in early British history. Nothing. 

And then it happened. Shakespeare wrote that Romeo and Juliet were star-crossed lover; his play depicted a romance that was “love at first sight”. It was like a switch was turned.

1586, give or take a few years, a physician of that time wrote of a child being born without a heart, and had a gaping wound in his chest, and yet miraculously lived. Not for long of course; the physician experiment on this child, who everyone thought was a demon. Four months of research revealed that, after the heartless child was dead, a farmer’s girl in that very village had died, a heart attack. No one made the connection, and time went on. There wasn’t another single case.

The 1800s, the epidemic boomed. Hundreds of children, all over the world, were born either with a bright red heart on their chest or a gaping wound somewhere on their upper person. Slightly less barbaric, some of these children lived to become adults, and then, something seemingly impossible happened.

There was a book about it. It wasn’t famous, and it died out, but he found it, and he read it. A woman was walking through her village market, a maiden with a rich daddy, and suddenly, her eyes met that of a poor, farmer boy. They were both a part of the “epidemic” at the time. She had a heart on her chest, carefully hidden, but bright red, with lace around it, and a pink peony in the center. He was empty, or so everyone said, until suddenly, her heart was on his skin. Her skin was blank, his was filled, and they were instantly, and madly, in love.

Spoiler; they were never wed and they were both killed; her of witchcraft, him of devil worship. That didn’t matter. The point was, it happened. The first event ever recorded of soulmates meeting, and a scientific impossibility happening. Was it hormones that made her mark disappear and appear on him? Some kind of chemical reaction to each other’s presence? But then what caused it? Why did their bodies react to each other, and not to someone else?

Either way, it was such a marvel back in that day, and it eventually became a normal occurrence.  The phrase “he wears his heart on his sleeve” was coined, and a comedian butchered it to say “he wears  _ my  _ heart on  _ his  _ sleeve” and it stuck. These days, everyone had it, one or the other, and it goes as one expects. Some people stay up day and night, trying to find their soulmates. Fillers, those with the mark, pour their entire personal life on registrars trying to find their “Emptys”. Some succeed, most fail. Despite this failure rate, and despite people falling dead in the street because their soulmates died, everyone still tries to find “love”.

Sometimes it’s instantaneous, like the book that was written nearly two hundred years beforehand. Two men, illegal at the time still, had merely shaken hands, and instantly, they had known. Witness testimonies changed. One man, clearly homophobic, had stated that the two men had created “sparks of hellish fire with no regard for the children in the room”. Another woman, a romantic some would say, had said she watched as “his heart trailed from his chest and across their conjoined hands before resting his forearm”. Both sounded terribly idiotic but in modern days, the latter was commonly reported.

Other times, there was no indication. A soldier man and nurse woman, friends for years, never even noticed that they had been soulmates, until the man, the heart of the relationship, had seen her take her shirt off in the throws of passion. He had scars on his chest from the war and never noticed the absence of his heart. The woman never noticed the soulmark either, as she had a plethora of tattoos on her, trying in vain to hide her emptiness. It was speculated that the change had happened when she was treating him. Other reports of mates bonding without notice have been given as well. 

There was even a famous story of a woman going home from work only to find her wound filled, and having no idea of whom she had bonded with. Needless to say, with social media being so popular, the woman became famous as she began the search for her mate. There were many false positives, and the woman was heartbroken until the mother of her mate contacted her. Turns out, the woman’s mate, another woman, was blind and didn't know what her mark looked like. The news had a field day with the “romance” of that story.

Of course, with every perfect world, there are their defects. One in one hundred thousand people is born with nothing. There are many names for these people. Less; Just; Soulless. Unsavory names as it were. They weren’t very popular and often faced ridicule. Most have turned out to be quite famous; though not usually in the sense one would wish. Ted Bundy for example; soulless. Tsutomu Miyazaki; also soulless. Many believed Adolf Hitler was as well, though it was never probably documented. There are many in the research of the relation of between being soulless and having killer tendencies.

There was one man in particular, who would fall into that category. He was methodical and careless of others. He didn’t see beauty in anyone or anything, except maybe in a rotting corpse. He didn’t understand emotions, such as happiness or love. For crying out loud; he even told people he was a high functioning sociopath!

So imagine everyone's surprise when they figured it out. When everyone saw that Sherlock Holmes,  _ the  _ Sherlock Holmes, was a Filler.


	2. When Everything Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: This is the story about the day my life changed forever. The day my heart became something more than a mark on my chest. The day I met my John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This is Sherlock reciting his memories of his Heart. I don’t know if I’ll make a third chapter for the story. There will be a chapter 3, but that will hold the comic in which this story was based on.

Despite how hard Sherlock tried to delete the memory, he could never forget that week after his fourteenth day. Between the ages of thirteen and fifteen, is when it manifest. Sherlock had already passed 371 days without a heart or wound appearing, and he was so sure it would never happen. Even Mycroft was sure he would soulless, like himself.

It isn’t hard to imagine the anger and horror Sherlock expressed when he awoke that morning. Hoping against all hopes that he would be soulless, the easier path, Sherlock woke up with a heart! A heart of all things! Him, Sherlock Holmes, the cruel, emotionless sociopath had a heart.

The horror! With a wound he could have at least lived with the stereotype of being empty and heartless; people would think he was cruel before he opened his mouth. No with a heart, he’d be considered nice, and mushy! Disgusting!

Sherlock vowed to never let anyone see his heart that day. He never registered. He wore gloves to stop any skin contact, and always wore a coat. He wore undershirts, and long sleeve shirts, and never took either off where he could be discovered. No one would see Sherlock Holmes’s heart. Not even his soulmate. Why should he care? Soulmates were useless.

Over the years, Sherlock’s heart changed as he slowly became the person he was meant to be; each change marking a life-changing event in his life. First, at age 16, when he ran away to London for the day, Sherlock saw his first corpse and solved his first murder. Sherlock’s heart changed colors from garnet red to olive green. Three years later, at 19, a bubbling beaker developed when he entered Uni for his chemistry major. Age 20, the dopamine structure appeared after his first shot of cocaine. Never once did anyone see his heart.

It must have been when they first met; when loaned him his phone. Sherlock was careless, not wearing his gloves, but after twenty plus years of nothing, he’d grown slack. They’re skin had touched. It was so breath, less than a second, but there was no other answer. 

There was nothing. No visual change. No “spark”. Or any kind of indication, physical or mental or otherwise, to suggest any kind of change. Sherlock had merely continued as if John was another puzzle to solve.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock stated, texting his deductions.

John stared, and his lip quirked. This had interested Sherlock, slightly, no one showed amusement with their first deduction.

“Sorry?” John asked.

“Which was it?” Sherlock asked. “Afghanistan or Iraq?”

John Watson is an enigma. Sherlock deduced, as he did with everyone, and instead of being punched in the face, or insulted, he was praised. 

“That… was amazing,” John finally said.

Sherlock paused, his mind totally stopping for a moment as he processed. “You think so?” he asked.

“Of course it was,” John asserted. “It was extraordinary. It was quite extraordinary.”

Sherlock pursed his lips and looked back out the window. “That’s not what people normally say,” he informed.

“What do people normally say?” John countered instantly.

“Piss-off.”

John smirked and giggled, and Sherlock couldn’t hold back his own chuckle. He felt so elated. Is this what it felt like to be rewarded with it hurting? Sure, he’s received big medals and shiny plaques from helping “her majesty” but he’s never felt anything for it. This, this was a great feeling.

“How did you know I was an Empty?” John asked curiously. “I’m marked.”

After registering, a Filer or Empty will receive a band to show which they were; supposedly to help with finding your soulmate.

“Your wrist has three skin tones from where you wore it,” Sherlock shot back. “Which you were was a shot in the dark. Most soldiers are either Empty or soulless. Surveys show they feel they have nothing to lose.”

John’s amusement fell. “Those surveys are off,” he said quietly, adjusting his grip on his cane.

Sherlock may have amazed John with his abilities, but Sherlock was amazed more by John. They didn’t work out at first, or all the time, but Sherlock could tell without much prompting. They were such a fit. Like two pieces fitting together. Sherlock told himself he’d examine it more closely later. It was probably a simple answer of he and John being compatible men, with John being very excepting.

Until John shot a man for him, mere hours after they met. No one does that. Nobody has ever killed for Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock paused in his deduction as he noticed John; they made eye contact. “J-John,” Sherlock called.

Without any more prompting, John made his way over. “Sherlock,” he nodded.

Sherlock looked at Lestrade. “I’m going home,” he said firmly.

“But what about your statement?” Lestrade asked in shock.

“Ignore me,” Sherlock ordered, “I’m in shock. Look I’ve got a blanket and everything.”

“But-,” Lestrade paused at Sherlock’s expression and sighed. “Fine, tomorrow then.”

Lestrade made to leave but paused as he eye caught something. “And let your colleague go home,” he said while rolling his eyes. “His Filler is probably worried sick by now.”

John paused in pulling his jacket. “I’m not filled-.”

“He’s not-,” Sherlock started.

They both froze, their eyes catching on John’s right wrist, where his jumper was pulled up slightly. In shock, John pulled it up the rest of the way, revealing his wrist, marked by a green heart. Sherlock’s breath caught in his throat, his hand flying to his shirt, where he gripped it tightly, only just now noticing. The throb he usually ignored from his chest was absent; it was now a constant buzz.

Was this-? Was he-?

Finally, they made eye contact. So many answered were answered, and yet so many questions were asked as well.

“Dinner?” 

“Starving.”

They turned and walked away; leaving a shocked Scotland Yard.

“End of Baker Street, there's a god Chinese,” Sherlock began, “Stays open until 2.”

“Going by our day, I’d say you were a regular,” John noted.

“You wouldn’t be wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> I find it harder and harder to come up with anything to say once I’ve finished a piece. I will say, however, is that I would love to see this type of Soulmark, Hearts/Wounds, to spread and become a thing. Like with the words of your soulmates. I doubt one story will do that but I can try.  
> Anyways, Kudos and Comment if you liked it.  
> Ja ne~!


	3. I DON'T OWN THIS!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the pic that inspired this story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw, anyone know who those people are? We got molly, whom I think is Greg and Mycroft, Mycroft again(which is confusing, why would his heart go to Sherlock), Moriarty, and John. I don't know the story behind the comic so maybe I'm missing something but whatevs

**Author's Note:**

> End.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> So that it. It can be read as Sherlock’s deductions, or as an introduction to this new world, soulmark AU. I think I may have read something similar to this soulmark but I don't remember if I did.  
> I’m kinda worried how this chapter will go, seeing as I, myself, dislike pieces without dialogue and big paragraphs, buts it important so you can understand.   
> Kudos or comment please~!  
> Ja ne~!


End file.
